


Drive Me Crazy

by AnkaraFerus



Category: 9GOATS BLACK OUT, Dir en grey, Sukekiyo - Fandom
Genre: Car Sex, Fantasy, M/M, Masterbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 18:15:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2821586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnkaraFerus/pseuds/AnkaraFerus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I’d seen him before. Many times, in fact. He drove a silver BMW 5-series sedan, a fine machine and well-suited to a man like him, and he brought it in almost monthly for regular maintenance.  And, I always noticed. Not only the car, but the man. How the air seemed to change with his appearance. How, just like now, the gears in my head locked up and stopped moving and all I could do was stare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drive Me Crazy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cadkitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/gifts).



> written for @cadkitten and the winter fic exchange in the livejournal community, jrockyaoi

Under the hood of a car, everything just makes sense. Gears and wires. Oil and grease. All the parts fit together and just work. Each piece has it’s own function, a logic. Completely predictable even when damaged. Won’t turn over? Check the battery, the wiring, the alternator. Find the broken piece and the whole thing comes alive again, purring and growling and shrugging itself back into action.  
  
I pulled my head out of the engine compartment of a Nissan Altima and flexed my back with a satisfying crack. The owner brought it in complaining that it was overheating. The repair was a simple one, just a few hoses needing replacing. I wiped my grease-coated hands and slid into the driver’s seat, giving the key a flick and the engine turned over easily. I gently tapped the accelerator, revving the engine, and watched the temperature needle climb steadily before stopping at normal. I smiled and gave the dash an affectionate pat.  
  
“Good girl.”  
  
“Kyo!” I jumped at my boss’ sharp voice from inside the shop. I shut off the Nissan and stepped out to find him poking his head into the garage, gesturing for me to join him. Behind him, visible through a bank of windows, was a neatly-dressed man with long hair and a troubled expression. I’d seen him before. Many times, in fact. He drove a silver BMW 5-series sedan, a fine machine and well-suited to a man like him, and he brought it in almost monthly for regular maintenance.  
  
And, I always noticed. Not only the car, but the man. How the air seemed to change with his appearance. How, just like now, the gears in my head locked up and stopped moving and all I could do was stare. I would become mesmerized by the flow of his hair around his shoulders, the bow of his lips, the shape of his back.  
  
“Kyo!” I jumped again, my eyes jerking back to my boss’ irritated face. “What the hell are you doing? Get in here!” With a flustered grunt, I slammed the car door behind me. I wiped my hands and straightened my collar, immediately feeling ridiculous for doing so, and made my way, head down, into the shop.  
  
“Uta-san,” he announced as I stepped through the door, “this is Kyo. He’s our finest mechanic.” I bowed without raising my eyes, dirty hands shoved in my pockets. “I’m sure whatever’s wrong, he’ll have it fixed for you in no time.”  
  
The man, Uta, shifted nervously, his shiny leather shoes scraping across the shop floor. I lifted my eyes just enough to see his lips curl prettily downward and quickly lowered my head to hide my flush.  
  
“It is absolutely imperative that it be ready by first thing in the morning,” he said sternly.  
  
“Yes, sir,” I answered.  
  
“Trust me,” my boss ensured, slapping me roughly on the back with a meaty hand. “He’ll have it ready if he has to work all night.”  
  
I frowned and swallowed hard as he gave my shoulder a tight, warning squeeze. Uta’s hands clenched and unclenched at his waist and he released a long sigh. “I guess I’ll leave it to you, then,” he said gently. My tongue frozen in place, I bowed again, lower this time. My boss released his grip on my shoulder and ushered Uta out in a fog of reassurances, each one laced with a subtle threat pointed at me.  
  
Heart pounding, palms sweating, I quickly retreated back into the garage, leaning heavily against the Nissan I’d just been working on. His silver BMW had been pulled into the bay next to it and I peered at it over the Nissan’s roof.  
  
“What’s wrong with you?”  
  
I inhaled deeply in an effort to get the gears moving again, focusing on the machine in front of me. Metal and rubber and glass. Things I understood. But, I saw him reflected in every surface. I ran a hand over the curve of the fender and felt my face flush. I opened the driver’s side door and the faintly sweet and musky smell of leather and expensive cologne was enough to make me swoon.  
  
I growled to myself, forcing these distracting thoughts away, and gave the ignition a vicious twist. The car sprang to life in a cacophony of bangs and rattles. I popped the hood, watched the engine tremble in its compartment and frowned.  
  
“You’re a sick girl,” I said softly, giving the engine a little knock with my knuckles, “but, I can fix you.”  
  
Four hours later and I was still at it, flat on my back underneath her and covered head to toe in grease and soot. The shop had long closed and, with threats of firing and no small amount of bodily harm, even the boss went home and I was alone with only the clank of metal on metal to keep me company.  
  
“Okay, girl,” I said as I tightened the final bolt. “Let’s give it a shot.”  
  
I slid out from under the car, gave my hands a quick wipe on a shop rag and slid into the cab. I held my breath and said a little prayer as I turned the key. A slight hesitation before the engine jerked back to life, complaining and grumbling before settling into a steady purr.  
  
“There ya go,” I said with a satisfied sigh. I switched the car off, sank back into the seat and closed my eyes, my long day settling over me like a heavy blanket. A sort of exhaustion that made everything feel soft and dreamlike. My fingers traced the stitching of the leather seats absently and I suddenly imagined him sitting here, doing the same thing. My eyes cracked open and I spotted a powder-blue scarf pooled carelessly in the passenger seat. My heart skipped a little as I pictured him wearing it, wrapped up to the edge of his pretty lips in it.  
  
“What are you doing?” I muttered to myself as I reached out for it, my face heating up as I fondled the edge. Had his skin touched here? His lips? His breath? I shifted self consciously in the seat as I felt my jeans tighten. “This is so fucked.” My eyes darted through the windows as I pulled the door fully closed.  
  
I dipped my hand fully into the little pool of fabric and pulled it to my face, letting out a loud groan as I was enveloped in the sweet smell of his cologne. My free hand drifted between my legs and squeezed. My hot breath filled the scarf, my smell mixing with his in a way that made my skin burn.  
  
A light, tingly feeling across my inner thighs and when I opened my eyes, he was there, on his knees in the floorboard. He pressed his palms to my legs, pushing my knees apart and drifting steadily upward. A little, disbelieving sound as his long fingers grazed my zipper, pushing my own hand out of the way and tugging it down. My hips jerked as he freed me and I moaned as he, without ceremony or hesitation, took me into his mouth.  
  
Those lips, those full, beautiful lips, were just as soft as I thought they would be as they wrapped around the head, easing themselves lower and lower down my shaft in slow, bobbing motions until he had taken me as far as he could go. Hollowing his cheeks, he pulled back in one long stroke, his tongue dragging along the underside of my entire length before plunging back down again, leaving me gasping.  
  
His long hair fell around his face like a shroud, each stroke sending it tickling over my hips and abdomen until I could hardly take it anymore. I reached down and swept it back, gathering it my hand and smudging a bit of grease across his cheek in the process. Something about it thrilled me, how I’d dirtied him, and he looked all the more beautiful for it. I gripped his hair and lifted my hips, thrusting myself deeper into his mouth and felt his throat shudder, making me throw my head back and moan.  
  
When I opened my eyes again, he was on my lap, naked from the waist down but otherwise dressed as he had been in the shop that afternoon, his cock poking long and hard from under his shirt tails. I found the little lever under the seat and threw us back almost completely flat as he rolled his hips over me, pushing his hardness against mine and filling me with sparks.  
  
I blinked and I was inside him, my hands clutching his hips hard enough to bruise. His head tipped back, his eyes closed, my breath caught as I observed the subtle changes in him. How his face reddened, his eyes clouded with lust, his muscles contracting rhythmically around me as he adjusted to the penetration. I pushed my hips upward and he made the softest of sounds, little more than a sigh, his brow creasing and back arching. I pushed upward again and he whined, breath quickening, hands balled into fists in my shirt. Again and he cried out, words thick and slurred, calling my name.  
  
“Kyo!”  
  
Something exploded inside of me at the sound of my name on his lips. Suddenly I was off the seat and pounding myself into him, pressing his back against the steering wheel. Blood on fire, dizzy with the smell of him, my hips snapped and jerked with a will of their own, making the car shake and honking the horn with every stroke. I buried my face in his hair and tasted the salt of his skin. He poured his voice into my ear until the fire inside me grew so hot I could no longer contain it.  
  
When I opened my eyes, I was alone, panting, slumped over the steering wheel with my cock in my hand, my pants and shirt stained with the evidence of my perversion. Ears ringing with a voice that never was, head swimming with ghost images, I gathered myself as best I could and slipped out of the car. I still held his scarf in my hand, now soiled with cum and grease and I burned with embarrassment. I couldn’t leave it here. So, I took it with me.  
  
The next morning, Uta came to fetch his car which, of course, now ran perfectly. I carefully hid myself away in the darkest corner of the garage and watched as he inspected it, those perfect lips pulling into a smile. I cursed as my boss caught my eye and waved me over, a smile on his face and a threat in his eyes.  
  
“You will find no better mechanic in Tokyo,” he boasted, slapping me on the back hard enough to knock the air from me.  
  
“In that case, I feel privileged to have found you,” he said in a bright voice. I lowered my eyes and gave a quick bow. I tried to escape, but the boss’ hand on my shoulder held me firmly in place. Uta laughed a little and, dipping his fingers into his breast pocket, retrieved a business card and held it out to me. “You must give me a chance to thank you properly.”  
  
Throat dry, heart doing flips in my chest, I took the card gingerly between two fingers. I allowed my eyes to lift up to his hand, drift over his barely-exposed wrist and up his arm to his face. He smiled warmly before swinging the car door open and lowering himself into the front seat.  
  
My cheeks flushed as he gave me a little wave and pulled away. Finally free of the boss’ iron grip, I fled to the locker room. I leaned against my locker, taking a moment to catch my breath before swinging it open. I held the card he handed me under my nose, catching the faintest whiff of his cologne, before tucking it neatly into the frame.  
  
Right next to a powder-blue scarf.


End file.
